


I can only give you everything

by champagneleftie



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Misunderstandings, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagneleftie/pseuds/champagneleftie
Summary: Yousef is 21, in his first semester of university, the most recent member of Kollektivet - and ridiculously, embarrassingly, stupidly in love with Sana.Or: a university AU where Yousef pines, Sana is oblivious, and the lack of communication threatens to ruin everything.Re-posted because the last chapter has been edited.





	1. The National Library

**Author's Note:**

> This came about mostly because Yousef is canonically desperate and ridiculous for Sana, which I think is adorable, and because I thought Yousef and Sana deserved a single-minded love story, without any friend or bus drama to disturb it. And also because Sana is amazing, and everyone should be in love with her. 
> 
> The title is a translation of the song "Jag kan bara ge dig allt", by Joel Alme.

When Yousef enters the library at half past eight on this Monday morning, Sana is, as always, already there, at her usual table, a tall stack of books on her right, travel mug of tea on her left, laptop, notebook and worksheets spread out in front of her. She doesn't notice him, but that really isn’t that surprising - the large reading room of the National library lives up to its name, and as exams are coming up, it’s quite full, despite the early hour. Yousef, on the other hand, can never help but notice Sana, no matter how many other people are in the same room. How her eyes are glued to her worksheet, as she highlights sentences in neon yellow. How her other hand taps the beat of whatever song she has running through her headphones on the desk while she reads. The heart pins in her hijab. Her perfect purple lipstick. The label of her tea bag sticking out of the travel mug - red and orange, so maybe rooibos today?

Yousef adjusts his heavy backpack and scans the room. Unfortunately, the impending exam period has resulted in the population of the reading room almost doubling lately. He remembers how it was a couple of months ago, when he had first found his way here. Often, he and Sana would have a whole row of desks to themselves, and he’d been able to choose between sitting next to her or across from her. Sitting next to Sana meant that he would be able to take in her scent, a perfect blend of tea and soap and perfume. Sitting across from her meant that it was easier to sneak glances at her from time to time, most often disguised in stretches. Sometimes, Sana’d even glance back, and smile a little, and he’d get to see her beautiful dimples. Now, however, there’s no chance of that. The row Sana’s sitting in is almost full, and all the desks surrounding hers are occupied. Yousef sighs. As if today wasn’t going to be boring enough anyway. He weighs his options. He can choose between sitting in the row of desks behind Sana’s, one seat away from her, or in the same row, opposite her, three seats away from her. The first option means he’ll  _ maybe  _ be able to pick up some of her scent, and it’ll make it easier for him to  _ casually  _ ask if she wants to eat lunch together. The second option means he'll  _ maybe _ be able to see her, but it’ll take more effort. He settles for the first option. Maybe one of the people next to Sana will move and he can grab that seat. If he can manage it without being too obvious.

The first option also means that Yousef will have to pass behind Sana's chair. This had seemed like an upside to this particular seat when he chose it, but now that he’s actually about to squeeze between Sana and the guy behind her he’s no longer so sure. Sana is just concentrating so hard, and he doesn't want to bother her. This small everyday exchange suddenly seems so momentous. What should he say? Should he touch her shoulder? Yousef has his interactions with Sana over the past few months pretty thoroughly catalogued in his brain, and he doesn't think he’s actually touched her before. This seems like a much too large step to take just because he needs to get past her chair. Should he lean down? Should he say hi? Just… ask her to scoot in a bit, so he can get through? Should he ask the guy behind her instead? But then she might think he’s ignoring her! Why is he even putting himself through this?! He should have just gone around the entire room and gotten to his seat from the other side of the row instead. But it’s too late to retreat now. Okay. Deep breath.

As he’s trying to get his voice under control, trying to make sure it doesn't come out to high pitched or too loud, Sana looks up from her text and turns towards him. She looks a bit startled for a brief moment, like she’s just realised that she isn't alone in the library, but then Yousef can actually see her relax when they lock eyes. And she smiles! Sana smiles at him! Okay, so it’s her half smile half smirk, that only reveals a little bit of one of her dimples, and not his favorite, her big, open mouthed smile, the one she has when something is genuinely funny, but hey, it’s Monday morning, he’ll take it! Yousef tries to smile back naturally, and not just grimace weirdly, especially as Sana removes her headphones and opens her mouth and  _ speaks. _ It takes him a moment to long to register her hi, and then - fuck - his voice  _ is  _ too squeaky when he answers. And then Sana just looks at him, expectantly, like she’s waiting for him to say something  _ more.  _ Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ . What should he  _ say _ ?

“Ehm, I was going to sit… there?”  _ What?  _ What even was that? That was literally the weirdest way he could ask her to move. He couldn’t have thought of anything else? Literally  _ anything  _ else would have been smoother.

Sana turns her head and looks at the seat he’s pointing at.

“Oh, right.”

She pulls her chair in a bit and Yousef shuffles past, taking the opportunity to draw a very, very subtle breath, trying to register and remember every one of her smells. The tea  _ is  _ rooibos. He knew he recognized the tag. When he’s through Sana's already grabbed her headphones again and is watching her laptop screen intently.

“Good luck with… that,” Yousef says, desperate for a last moment of her attention. She glances up at him again, but without dimples this time.

“Thanks.” And then the headphones are back on and she’s grabbed her highlighter again.

Yousef is confused. Did that go well? Or not well? He’s never entirely sure with Sana. He pulls his laptop and his own travel mug (of coffee) out of his backpack, before hanging it on the back of his chair. First she smiled at him… right? He didn't imagine that? No, he’s pretty sure she smiled. And then he’s pretty sure she didn't. Was what he said really  _ that bad?  _ He turns the sentence over in his head.  _ I was going to sit there.  _ It’s a stupid sentence, definitely. Most assuredly. Is it offensive in some way? He can't see anything terrible about it, but he could be wrong. He’s probably wrong.  _ Fuck.  _ Yousef opens his laptop and pulls up the article he has to read. Maybe it was his voice? Maybe his voice was so squeaky and terrible that Sana finally realised that she’s way too good and cool to hang out with him? That’s probably it. This day has already gone from horrible to amazing back to horrible. And he hasn’t even had his coffee yet. Yousef sighs. Okay, article. Great.

_ Dyscalculia refers to a persistent difficulty in learning and understanding mathematics. _

In the corner of his eye Yousef can see something move. Maybe it’s Sana? He has to check, so he turns his head, as little as possible, straining his eyes to their farthest corners. It’s not Sana. She’s as focused on her work as always.

_ Dyscalculia refers to a persistent difficulty in learning and understanding mathematics. _

Yousef sighs. Around him, people are typing way too loudly for a library. Papers are rustling, highlighters are squeaking. Yousef reaches into his backpack again, pulls out his own earphones and loads Spotify on his phone. The Weeknd or Cezinando? He settles on Cezinando.

_ Dyscalculia refers to a persistent difficulty in learning and understanding mathematics. _

He can't read in English while listening to music in Norwegian. He switches to The Weeknd. And while he’s taking a break anyway, he checks Instagram, and Facebook. Nothing new.

Yousef barely finishes the four page article before it’s time for lunch. He looks over to Sana again. She doesn't look like she’s taken a single break. Two of her five books have migrated from the pile on her right to form a new pile on her left, and a third is open in front of her.

Okay. This part, Yousef has done before. He started going to the library around the middle of the semester, when he realised that he couldn't focus at home. Yes, he realises the irony of that. Sana had already settled in here, and after a few days they had run into each other when they both took a lunch break at the same time. It had been… more or less spontaneous. Yousef  _ may have _ observed what time Sana usually ate lunch, and he  _ may have  _ seen her leave her desk that day, but seriously, the acceptable time window for lunch isn't that long, so it would have happened sooner or later anyway. And then, after a little while, they had just settled into a routine of getting lunch together most days. Yousef returns to Facebook and opens a chat window. It takes him a while to find the perfect gif to illustrate his message, but finally he finds one of a chipmunk eating carrots. Sana almost always has carrots with her lunch.  _ Ready for lunch?  _ he writes, and then immediately regrets and deletes it. Too presumptuous.  _ Did you bring lunch today?  _ No, that’s exactly what he wrote on Friday, he can’t write the  _ exact same thing _ twice in a row.  _ Up for lunch?  _ Yeah, that’s okay. He adds a sandwich emoji, and presses send. The writing bubble appears almost immediately, and Yousef can feel his heart thump loudly in his chest.

_ Sorry, I have plans. _

Oh.

Oh. Okay. This is fine. It’s fine! It’s not like Sana owes him anything, they’re just friends, not even friends, really, just lunch buddies. This is fine. Definitely fine.

And awkward. So awkward. How can he stay here, sitting almost back to back with Sana, now that she’s shot him down? She’s probably sensed his desperation. It’s practically seeping out of his pores by now. Should he ignore her? Should he look over at her? He should go eat his lunch. That’s what he’ll do. That’s the natural, casual thing to do. Yes. He’ll do that.

Yousef shuts his laptop and stands up. Should he leave one of his books, or maybe a notebook, to make sure the seat doesn’t get snatched up while he’s away? Then he feels the chair behind him wobble slightly against the back of his knees, and when it disappears completely he feels momentary a surge in his gut as he realises what’s coming. It seems to Yousef like the whole room startles and turns to stare at him. He forgot the heavy bag on the back of his chair. The bang of his books and the chair colliding with the floor echoes against the high ceilings. Great. This is in no way casual. Like he hasn't embarrassed himself enough today already. Yousef doesn't want to look over at Sana, but he can't help himself. When he catches her eye she instantly returns to her book.  _ Great.  _ She doesn't want anyone to know that she knows him. Of course she doesn't.

Any thoughts of returning to the library - to Sana - after lunch have evaporated. Yousef gathers his things, and flees.

*

He ends up at Kaffebrenneriet, where Even’s working a slow shift. The café is empty apart from the two of them and a girl with a laptop, wearing earphones, so Yousef doesn’t feel too bad about taking up Even’s time. He’s keeping him company! It’s called being a good friend. Okay, so it could also be called moping, but whatever. Details. This is a horrible day, even for a Monday. Yousef is allowed to mope. Even brings him a cup of tea and wipes down the tables around Yousef for the third time, so that it at least looks like he’s working. Yousef doesn't want tea. Tea reminds him of Sana. And he’s trying to be mad at Even right now, because Even laughed at him when Yousef told him how he’d been humiliated by his chair, and the tea makes that harder.

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Even asks, because he is an unfeeling brute with zero empathy for Yousef’s predicament. He can't just  _ ask Sana out _ ! Not without being absolutely certain that she likes him! What if she says no?! Then he’ll never be able to go to Elias’ place again, both because it’d be humiliating to see Sana, but also because he isn’t sure how Elias would react to finding out that his best friend is in love with his little sister. Yousef wants to tell Even all of this, because then he’d surely understand that this is a fucking tragedy, on par with his beloved Baz Luhrmann movies. Yousef and Sana are possibly meant to be, but the universe keeps throwing obstacles like occupied seats and other lunch plans in their way. The problem is that since Elias can  _ never know  _ that Yousef likes Sana, at least not until Yousef knows that Sana likes him back and possibly not until they're already married, their other friends can't know either. Because Yousef knows their friends. He’s heard how they talk when one of them has a thing for a girl. There is no way they wouldn’t tease him about this, and there is no way they wouldn’t do it in front of Elias. So they must be kept in the dark as well.

“What, like you asked Isak out?” he shoots back instead, because they’ve heard the story of the paper towels and the weed and the fucking swimming pool, and yes, the reactions to that story are high on the list of reasons why Yousef will never tell his friends that he’s in love.

Even grins, because he’s fucking  _ happy  _ and  _ domestic _ and has forgotten all about the miserable agony of being in love. “It worked though!”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly going to follow… her into the bathroom.”

“But seriously! What’s the worst that could happen? Aren’t there like 200 people in your class? If she says no you never have to talk to her again!”

Oh right. That excuse.

Even’s not even supposed to know that there  _ is  _ a her. This is really all Eskild’s fault. Yousef had assumed that there was some kind of flatmate code, that if you find your flatmate moping over a girl’s Instagram in the middle of the night you don't  _ tell their other friends.  _ This was when Yousef was new to Kollektivet. He knows better now. At least he’d been able to stop Eskild before he’d revealed the identity of the girl. And he’d  _ explicitly  _ sworn Even and Isak to secrecy. But now he’s stuck with this white lie that this is a girl in his class, and yes, he can see how crushing on some random girl in his class doesn't seem as life-altering to Even as  _ being in love with Sana. _

Yousef doesn't really know how to answer Even, so he settles for a tortured moan, stifled by burying his face in his arms on the table. It smells somewhat of the sour rag Even used to clean it. Even laughs at him.

*

Yousef doesn’t go back to the library all week. In fact, he barely leaves the apartment at all, until, out of the blue, wherever did this week disappear to?, it’s Friday afternoon and he discovers, as he’s about to make a sandwich, that he’s completely out of butter. And also pasta. Which is weird, because he could have sworn that he had both butter and pasta when he last checked. But the past few months have taught him, time and again, that trying to keep food away from Eskild is near impossible, and Yousef isn’t about to start something over butter and pasta. So he goes to the store.

When Yousef returns and pushes the heavy door to the apartment open he can hear screaming from the tv in the living room. Linn, probably. He tries to guess the show. Paradise hotel, maybe? No, that’s usually in spring, right? Unless it’s a rerun. Or it could be Keeping up with the Kardashians? Or maybe Linn fell asleep on the couch again and left the tv on. Yousef makes his way to the kitchen and plays a game of fridge tetris, wedging a packet of butter between a jar of pesto and a carton of milk. He should ask Linn if she’s eaten anything besides cereal today, if he should make soup for her too. He wonders, again, how she can eat so little real food - it’s all frozen pizzas and snacks. And he tries to imagine, again, how his mother would react if she could see Linn’s diet. She’s probably faint, then berate her for it while cooking a massive dinner. And then she’d nag her about eating properly for the rest of eternity, just like she nags Yousef about eating, despite the fact that he’s basically never skipped a meal in his life. But, Yousef’s mother isn’t here, so he guesses that he’ll just have to step into her shoes when it comes to Linn.

When Yousef enters the living room the first thing he notices is that he was right, that is Keeping up with the Kardashians on the tv. It’s possible, he thinks to himself, that he’s been spending too much time here with Linn. The second thing he notices is that Linn isn’t there. Instead, the couches are occupied by Eskild, Isak, Noora, Eva, Chris and… Sana.

Sana is here. Sana is  _ in his apartment. On his couch. Drinking water.  _ Okay, so technically it’s Eskild’s couch, but still. And now he's staring at her. He knows he is, and he can't seem to stop. Sana stares back, and - Yousef’s heart starts beating like he’s just run a sprint - a tiny smile appears on her face. And then she looks down at her lap. Fuck. She’s probably still thinking about the chair thing. She’s probably silently laughing at him.

“Yousef!” Eskild’s voice tears Yousef’s attention away from Sana. “Hi! You’re home!” He has a glass of wine in his hand, and Yousef sees that the rest of them do as well. Eskild smiles broadly at him. “Join us!”

“Okay…” Sometimes, Yousef finds Eskild’s energy a bit intimidating, like he has to stay on high alert at all times so he’s not swept up into something that he actually doesn’t want to be a part of. Friday and Saturday nights are usually the worst for this, but it has happened on the occasional Tuesday or random Thursday as well. Never on a Sunday, though. “Join you for what?”

“We’re taking Linn out, trying to cheer her up,” Noora explains. “You must have noticed that she’s been a bit down lately?” She looks at him expectantly, critically, like she's reevaluating his suitability as her replacement in Kollektivet. Yousef had, in fact, noticed, but Linn’s been down since he moved in in August so he’d assumed that that was just her default mode. “She broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago.” What? Linn had a boyfriend? Yousef doesn’t particularly want to reveal that he’s just now realizing how little he actually knows about his flatmate, so he just nods.

“We’re going to a gay bar!” Eva cheers, the wine in her glass swooshing precariously. Yousef suspects that it’s not her first. “Come with us!” Yousef can’t believe his luck. He has the opportunity to  _ go out with _ Sana. Okay, so not in, like, the date meaning of the term, but still! Out! With Sana! Without Elias or the guys! He very nearly pinches himself to see if he’s dreaming, because this entire scenario actually isn’t that different from some of the dreams he’s been having lately, but decides against it. If he pinches himself Sana will definitely think he’s weird.

“Unless you have plans already?” Isak interjects, narrowing his eyes, but with an amused smirk playing on his lips. Sana, who’s been staring at and fiddling with her glas since he entered, twisting it in her hands, suddenly looks up at him again, with the same hint of a smile and slightly raised eyebrows. All the other faces in the room, the noise from the tv, the smell of the wine - it all becomes blurry. Everything except Sana.

“No! No plans!” He does, as a matter of fact, have plans. Plans with Elias and Even and the rest of the boys. Plans that Isak obviously knows about. He catches Isak’s eye and tries to plead with him, telepathically, to not reveal this. Isak smirks at him again. He looks very pleased with himself. Yousef, however, can’t be bothered to be concerned with this - because Sana’s smile just got slightly bigger.

He’s informed of the plan, which consists of luring Linn out of her room with promises of alcohol and dinner, and then later moving on to a club where a friend of Eskild’s is dj-ing. Noora’s planned the food part of the evening, so there’s actual salad involved. Somehow (possibly because he volunteered) Yousef’s been put in charge of that, so now he's trying to focus on cutting the tomatoes rather than himself. It’s doubly challenging, because their knife is old and dull, and Sana’s sitting on the kitchen counter, smiling at Eva, Chris and Eskild, who are trying to get Linn excited by miming to Britney. Yousef has to admit that they’re pretty funny.

It’s interesting to see Sana with her friends, rather than with Elias and  _ his _ friends. She seems calmer here. Relaxed. With Elias it often seems like she feels that she has to prove herself, and to be fair, Elias loves riling Sana up. Here, she’s laughing, miming along to Britney, telling stories about their other friends (apparently someone called Julian Dahl hooked up with someone called Sara, and this is a big deal? Yousef has no idea who any of these people are, so the details are kind of fuzzy for him). And when he glances over at her, he keeps catching her just looking away.

“Noora? Is this vinaigrette like you want it?” Yousef looks over at Noora by the stove. She’s making a very strange face at Sana, raising her eyebrows and smirking and tilting her head. When she sees him looking she quickly composes herself, but the smirk remains.

“Hm? Oh, I have… I’m chewing gum, I can’t taste it right now… Sana! Why don't you taste it?”

Sana cocks an eyebrow at her, but scoots closer to Yousef. The only thing separating them right now is a bowl of salad and a cutting board. Sana is so close that Yousef can physically feel her presence, even if they’re not touching. He tries to breath normally, but the sound of his breathing is suddenly very loud, echoing in his head. If Yousef was daring enough he could touch Sana right now. He wouldn’t even have to reach. He wills himself to look at her face, and she meets his eyes, smiling.

“Do you want me to taste?” she asks.

What Yousef  _ wants _ is to dip the spoon he’s holding in the dressing and bring it up to Sana’s perfect mouth himself. He wants to watch her lick the dressing off it, wants to wipe a stray drop of oil from her chin with his thumb.

What he  _ does  _ is dip it and hand it to her, carefully holding a hand underneath so that she doesn't get oil on her white pants. Keeps his distance. But when Sana takes the spoon her finger touches his thumb, and it's possibly the most intense touch Yousef has experienced. He glances upward, because with Sana sitting on the counter he has to look up to meet her eyes, and she locks his gaze with her own and keeps it locked, bolted with iron, as she puts the spoon between her lips. Yousef has to consciously move his arm and pull his hand through his hair to break away. Then Sana smiles at him, and her dimples are deep as the Mariana Trench.

“This is really good. Where did  _ you  _ learn to cook?” She’s teasing him, and Yousef’s never been happier to be teased. This, he can handle. This is familiar. This, they’ve done since Sana was just Elias’ little sister, instead of this indefinable, incomprehensible  _ presence  _ in his life _. _

“This isn't cooking,” he replies. “But then again, you’ve actually  _ burnt eggs  _ so I guess you wouldn’t know the difference.”

She raises her eyebrows at him. “Seriously? You’re going to bring that up? I was thirteen!”

“Sana, you boiled eggs for forty minutes!”

“Okay, I guess I’ll just have you cook for me then.” She smirks, and Yousef nearly swallows his tongue. He wants to tell her that yes, please, he’ll gladly cook for her every day for the rest of their lives it’d be a fucking privilege - but he manages to play it fairly cool and just smirks back at her. Well played, he congratulates himself. That was, at the very least, not a total disaster. It might even qualify as flirting.

*

Watching Sana dance is a revelation. Yousef realises that he never has, before. It’s not that they haven’t partied together before - but it’s always been with Elias and the guys, and sometimes with Isak’s friends as well, and, well, it’s never been like this. He’s used to seeing Sana bop around with her friends a bit, make some silly moves and funny faces before going off to the side. This is not that. Yousef has never seen Sana dance like this. It’s like she’s forgotten that she is at a club, that there are other people around her. Her eyes are almost closed, her smile is glorious but secretive, like she’s smiling entirely for herself, entirely because she’s happy. No part of this, of her, is a performance, a display. No part of this is for anyone else. The rest of their groups are doing some kind of ridiculous interpretative moves, miming the lyrics to the song. Sana is just swaying to the beat, moving like her heartbeat has been replaced by the rhythm of the music, like she has the melody pulsing through her veins. They’re on opposite ends of a circle formed by their friends, and Yousef’s eyes are glued to Sana. He barely registers the music, moving instead to the beat of her, shifting his weight as she shifts hers, moving his hands as she moves her hands.

Sana’s eyes open and find his. She smiles, and it’s a new smile. A smile he hasn’t seen before. Soft. Private. This is his new favorite smile. He can only smile back, hoping that his smile is braver than his brain will ever be and tells Sana everything he’s feeling - not just in his heart, but in his gut, his chest, his arms, in every nerve ending on his entire body.

Eva pulls Eskild into the middle of the circle for some kind of impromptu dance battle, and as he grabs her and lifts her over his shoulder the dance floor shifts and Yousef finds himself standing right in front of Sana. He recognizes the feeling from the living room - the rest of the world fades away and they are the only two people who exist.

He wants to kiss her. He wants to touch her, stroke her cheek, feel her lean her face into his hand. But he can't move. He can only smile down at her, take in every centimeter of her face, try to memorize every last detail, every eyelash, every tiny spot, the exact bend of her nose - because who knows when he’ll have the opportunity to look at her like this again? And Sana looks up at him and smiles back.

*

Later, when he lies in bed and replays the evening in his mind, resting on Sana’s dimples, and laugh, and dancing, like they are gifs on an eternal loop, Yousef has no clue if it was his idea or Sana’s that they leave the club and walk home together. He supposes it doesn't matter, but he wishes he’d remember anyway. He wants to remember everything. They walk side by side under the Christmas lights, past shop windows dressed in red and glitter, posters of half naked models pushing lingerie as the perfect gift. Yousef is very aware of his hands. What does he usually do with his hands when he walks? He keeps alternating between stuffing them in his pockets and pulling them out again. Neither way feels natural.

When they’ve walked in silence for a while, Sana speaks.

“You haven’t been at the library this week?”

She noticed. She noticed! Probably just because she had to eat alone, but still. Yousef pulls his hand through his hair, buying time. He wishes he could say something that Sana would interpret as “no, because I’m hopelessly in love with you and can barely manage to stand and sit and walk in your presence, let alone learn things”  _ if  _ by some miracle she feels something for him too, but that would seem perfectly innocent of she doesn't. He can't think of anything.

“No, you know… it’s just so crowded right now… and I have that exam soon…”

Pathetic. Seriously pathetic.

“Right.”

They walk in silence again. Yousef can feel the slush seep through his sneakers. He did not dress warmly enough for this. They had taken cabs to the club, and this? Nightly, snowy walks with Sana? It’s been a daydream of his for so long that he’d ruled out it coming true. (Okay, so it’s just one walk, so far, and it’s more wet than snowy, but it's close enough.)

“How did you know that you wanted to study special education?” She asks suddenly, fixing her gaze on him, but it's a soft gaze, curious. There’s no judgement there, like Yousef always fears there will be, whenever he tells people his plans for the future. That he’s not going to be a doctor, or a dentist, or an engineer. Not even a real teacher. But when Sana asks, it’s like she's actually, genuinely, interested in his answer. Yousef believes her. He knows Sana well enough (has observed her with distant relatives enough) to know that she doesn't do small talk. So he takes the time to consider her question before he responds.

“You know how I worked at a daycare center?” he begins, slowly, not entirely sure how he’s going to phrase this. He feels a bit out of his depth here. Sana always seems so sure of herself, her opinions, her values. He's heard her school the guys on feminism and Islam and politics many times - at one point, about a month before the last parliamentary election, she and Adam almost stopped talking altogether because they supported different parties - and Sana couldn’t even vote yet. And she seems to be able to put these thoughts into words like they spring into her mind fully formed and formulated, like little sermons, expertly delivered. Yousef’s mind doesn't work like that. It is a jumble of ideas and instinct, gut feelings of what is right and what’s not, and it is rare that he can put into words  _ why _ .

“There was a little girl there…” he tries. Sana nods, so he continues. “Ida. She… she had a hard time connecting with the other kids, like, she’d disrupt their games when she was trying to join in, and she could never sit still during the music hour, or at lunch, and stuff. But we’d read together, and then she’d finally calm down.” He smiles at the memory. There’d been many parts of working at the daycare that Yousef loved - chasing the kids around the playground, helping them with arts and crafts, listening to them try to make sense of the world around them - but his favorite moments were probably of sitting with Ida when the other kids were napping, because she could never quiet down and sleep, and reading book after book. “She never wanted to read stories, either, just books on space, and dinosaurs, and stuff like that. Once, we even started to read the encyclopedia. But we only got to B before nap time was over.” Sana laughs at that, and Yousef thinks that maybe she was like that, once, reading picture books about the human body rather than princesses and talking animals. “And I just… I just want to do something that helps people you know? And this is a way that I can do that.” There’s more to it then that, really - the sense of desperation when he had worked almost two years after graduating and still didn't know what he really wanted out of his life, the fact that they were permanently short staffed at the daycare, less than perfect grades, his supportive but stressed out aunt, a sense of responsibility towards the kids in that particular neighborhood who didn't always have the best adult role models. But in the end, he thinks, it comes down to Ida, and to the feeling of accomplishment he had gotten when the rest of the staff trusted him, the youngest, the least experienced, with getting through to her.

Sana nods, slowly, like she’s considering this, but doesn't answer him. They keep walking. Yousef is surprised to find that the silence isn’t awkward at all - it feels natural, comfortable. He glances at her again, and meets her eyes. They both smile, and neither one looks away. He wishes that he could stay forever.

When they reach Sana’s house they find themselves lingering. Yousef wishes he could say something clever, but he just smiles stupidly. It’s started snowing again, and the snowflakes are dotting Sana’s hijab, resting for a moment before they melt into the fabric. She smiles back, eyes crinkling. Sana has the best cheeks Yousef has ever seen. He never knew cheeks could be so important to him.

When, at last, Sana moves to go inside, she pauses in the doorway and turns back towards Yousef.

“See you at the library on Monday.” 

  
  
  



	2. The Café with the Hot Barista

This is shaping up to be the longest weekend Yousef has ever experienced. After witnessing first Linn’s and then Eskild’s one night stand’s walk of shame over his Saturday morning coffee the three of them end up on the couches, a marathon of… something… blaring softly from the tv. It lost Yousef’s attention in the first fifteen minutes. Instead, he’s scrolling through Sana’s Instagram, again, trying to figure out what the fuck he should do now. Because they definitely had a moment last night, right? He wasn’t just imagining things? There was definitely something there. So. What now? Should he message her? Should he play it cool? She did say that they’d see each other on Monday, so it’d probably seem way too desperate to text her now, right? Yousef sighs. He could really have used the guys’ advice right now. Which also reminds him that he should maybe respond to all the messages from last night in their group chat. He’d sent them a message when he decided to hang with Sana instead -  _ sorry guys, change of plans, I’m going to stay in instead - _ and he’d naively hoped that his friends would leave it at that, or possibly be too drunk to really register his absence. He should really have known better. 

 

It’d started innocently enough, with  _ come on, bro!  _ and  _ don’t be such a boring loser  _ and a lot of crying emojis from Mutta - but then, later in the evening, late enough that Yousef had only noticed after he got home - the messages had suddenly changed into  _ Yousef man are you on a date??!?!!  _ and  _ are you ditching us for some girl?  _ and  _ traitor! _ And between these, Even’s  _ I’m so sorry, you know I can't keep secrets when I’m drunk,  _ complete with the embarrassed monkey emoji. 

 

He’d left them on read. Hopefully, someone will write something new soon, and this will all blow over and he’ll never have to deal with it. Yousef is nothing if not an optimist. And unlike Adam and Elias he doesn't really want his love life to be a topic of general discussion, regardless of who he likes - and doubly so when it’s Sana.

 

He pulls himself off the couch after another episode of… Masterchef New Zealand? Maybe? Something with food, anyway, and it’s making him hungry. He’s waiting for the pasta water to boil when he feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. And then again. And again. Yousef can feel his heart speed up - what if it's Sana?! What if she’s actually texting him first? She’s never done that before. 

 

It’s not Sana. It’s Even. And… well fuck. 

 

_ Hey man, I’m so sorry about yesterday.  _

_ But Isak says that he thinks you like Sana??!! _

_ Is Sana the mystery girl?! _

 

Fuck fuck fuck. Okay. So. Yousef supposes he could keep lying to Even. Tell him that Sana is nothing more than Elias’ little sister, that there is really a girl in his class, that Isak doesn't know what he’s talking about. Maybe that would be smarter. Even said it himself - he can't keep a secret,  _ especially  _ not when he’s drunk (but seriously, he isn't great with secrets even when he’s sober). But. Yousef can't exactly claim that he was on a date with a girl when Even now knows that he was with Isak. And if he’s obvious enough around Sana that  _ Isak  _ noticed, it’s seriously a miracle that the rest of their friends haven't already guessed. And it would be nice to be able to talk to  _ someone  _ about Sana - and Even is probably the least awful choice. He’ll tease, but he’s gotten better since he’s been with Isak. So maybe it won’t be too bad. 

 

_ Yes.  _

_ It’s Sana.  _

_ But you can't tell anyone, ok?  _

_ I don't even know if she likes me back.  _

 

The writing bubble appears almost immediately. 

 

_ That's so great!  _

_ You’d be great together.  _

_ And Isak thinks she definitely likes you back.  _

_ He says he can ask her if you want?  _

 

Yousef can't let  _ Isak  _ ask her. Seriously, he’s not twelve. 

 

_ No, don't tell Sana I like her! I’ll see her at the library on Monday, I’ll talk to her then.  _

 

E ven replies with a thumbs up, and a few seconds later, a heart eyes emoji. As Yousef returns to his food, Even’s message echoes in his head. 

 

_ She definitely likes you.  _

_ She definitely likes you.  _

 

*

 

On Monday morning, Yousef arrives at the library 8 o’clock sharp, just as the librarian is unlocking the door. He’s actually kind of impressed by himself. He hasn’t been this early all semester. One day, he thinks to himself, when he tells Sana - or maybe their kids, or their grandchildren! - of how he fell in love with her, he’ll be sure to include how he even sacrificed his sleep to win her over. It’s all very romantic. 

 

There’s just one problem. Sana isn’t at the library. 

 

Yousef is disappointed, sure, but not very concerned - not at first. Okay, so Sana usually arrives before him, but most days that could mean arriving any time between now and half past eight. Yousef grabs the seat next to Sana’s usual one, opens his book and starts counting down the minutes. 

 

By 8:15 the reading room is filling up. Still no Sana. Yousef places his backpack on her chair and one of his books on her desk, so that it’s clear to everyone that the seats occupied. 

 

By 8:35 he’s wondering why Sana’s so late. He knows for a fact that she’s usually here by now, because this when he usually arrives himself. Maybe there was a problem with her tram or something? He checks the Oslo public transport website, but there are no reported delays. 

 

By 9:00 he’s worried for real. Maybe Sana’s sick? Maybe she caught a cold (or worse!) when they walked home on Friday? 

 

By 9:08 he can't help himself any longer. He opens the Messenger app, and takes a deep breath. This will, after all, be the first time he messages Sana about something other than lunch. It’s a momentous occasion, okay? It takes him a few minutes to write a message that doesn't seem too stalkerish. He doesn't want it to be too obvious that he’s keeping tabs on her. And even if she’d said on Friday that they’d see each other here it’s not like she’s stood him up on a date or anything. 

 

At last, he writes  _ I noticed you’re not at the library today, hope your feeling ok.  _ He watches as the icon underneath the message changes from the little blue check mark to the miniature of Sana’s profile picture. So she’s seen it. He waits a little while longer, expecting the writing bubble, but nothing happens. 

 

S o, this day of studying is fucked as well. Yousef’s suddenly very grateful that everyone’s told him that grades don't matter after university, because at this rate, he’ll be glad if he passes his exam at all. That is, Adam had told him that, and as Adam isn't even at university, maybe he should have taken that with a grain of salt… but he’s kind of grasping at straws here. And mixing metaphors. 

 

Sana still hasn't answered his text. He keeps checking his phone every three minutes, but nothing. It really seems like she’s left him on read. Yousef considers his options. He could message Sana again, maybe, but that would really seem desperate. Elias would probably know where she is, but texting him would mean revealing that he likes Sana. Maybe he could ask Isak? But he doesn't really  _ know  _ Isak, apart from him being Even's boyfriend and his flatmates’ old flatmate. So that would be weird. All in all, Yousef has no options. Except waiting. He hates waiting. 

 

*

 

Sana isn't at the library on Tuesday or Wednesday either. Having thought deeply and extensively about all possible reasons for this, Yousef has come to the conclusion that it’s most likely something he’s done that’s made Sana want to avoid him. It’s quite possible that she hates him. He’d hoped to see her when he was over at Elias’ on Tuesday, but she’d been at basketball practice - which also confirmed that she probably isn't sick. Yousef goes over all their interactions from the past two weeks in his head, again. There was, of course, the chair. But that was  _ last _ Monday, and then on Friday everything seemed  _ so good _ , and he doesn't  _ think _ he did anything terribly offensive that night? Except maybe he was too obvious with how he feels, and Sana’s avoiding him in order to let him down easy…

 

“Yousef, what the fuck, help!” A strangled sort of sound reaches him from the approximate region of his knees. He snaps back to reality just in time to help Mikael, who’s trying bench his max, return the bar to the rack instead of dropping it on his throat. 

 

“Seriously, I know you’re pining, or whatever, but could you try to do that when I’m not literally entrusting you with keeping me alive?” 

 

“Sorry, sorry!” Yousef knows Mikael is teasing, but he’s also kind of right. Sana’s taken over his mind, and the rest of his life, his friends, his schoolwork - it has been suffering. And now that it seems  clearer by the hour that she doesn’t like him back? Well, he should probably try to do something about that. The taking over his life part, that is. There isn’t much he can do about Sana not liking him, unfortunately. He doesn’t want to be pushy, or creepy. Creepier. Sana probably already thinks he’s creepy, what with the desperation that’s basically been oozing out of him. 

 

“Who is she, anyway?” Mutta, who’s unloading and re-loading the squat rack, asks, before adding, under his breath: “Why doesn’t anyone at this gym ever put their plates away?” No one answers him - Mutta muttering about breaches of gym etiquette is practically white noise to them all by now. 

 

Yousef tries to shrug noncommittally. “Just a girl… in my class.” He hopes his silent mantra of  _ please let it be please let it be please let it be  _ is creating enough telepathic energy that the boys will be able to sense it and not question him further. 

 

It doesn’t. 

 

“Just some girl, huh?” Mikael laughs. “I don’t know man, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so hung up on someone in all the time I’ve known you. It’s like you’re not even in the same room as the rest of us most of the time.” 

 

“Yeah, remember like two weeks ago, when he was just staring at his phone all afternoon, and it turned out he was googling memes? And we were like what the fuck and it turns out there’s a  _ girl _ !” Adam chimes in, and yes, Yousef does remember, thank you very much - that had been the day when Sana had told him about her idiot classmate who didn’t see the problem in most medical studies being conducted on men only, and she’d been really frustrated, and he’d been trying to find an appropriate meme to cheer her up. And maybe he would have, if Mikael hadn’t snatched his phone away. He’s just lucky that they didn’t notice the messages to Sana.

 

“What’s her name?” Yousef turns to face Elias, who’s been sitting on the floor, scrolling through his phone, waiting for Mikael to finish his set. He’s not laughing, and it’s seriously unsettling, because Elias is usually the worst of them all when it comes to teasing. In fact, he’s almost  _ glaring  _ at Yousef. Elias! Yousef has never seen Elias angry, or even annoyed, with any of them. With other people - plenty of times. His brother, his dad. People who give them looks or, worse, pointedly avoid looking at them when they’re loud on the tram. Bouncers who won’t let them into clubs. Anyone who’s ever hurt Sana, or one of their friends. But never with  _ them.  _ Maybe he’s not feeling well? Stress maybe, over the fact that he’s out of a job again, now that his last short term contract has ended? Another fight with his parents? And, well, fuck. He asked Yousef a question, and Yousef has definitely taken too long to answer. Because, well, what should he even say? Elias has always been incredibly protective of Sana. Most of his drunken rants, especially during high school, and there were a lot of them, have been about Sana: how people don’t see  _ her, _ only her hijab, how she could take over the world if it weren’t for the fact that the world’s a prejudiced, hateful hellhole, how he’ll kill anyone who ever hurts her. How she’s the best person he knows (Yousef can only agree with him there). So Yousef can’t exactly tell him that it’s Sana, that the girl is  _ Sana.  _ Especially now that he’s convinced she doesn’t feel the same way. Because he knows that for all they are best friends Elias would drop any one of them like a how piece of coal if he had to choose between them and Sana. And Yousef isn’t prepared to give up both his possible soulmate  _ and  _ his best friend. 

 

“Fine,” Elias shrugs, at last. “Don’t tell us.” He gets up from the floor and grabs his bag. “I’m going to shower.”    
Mikael, Mutta and Adam exchange looks, confused, concerned. 

 

“What’s up with Elias?” Mutta asks, because, of course, Yousef should know, Yousef always knows. But Yousef doesn't know. He starts feeling a little nauseous, a mix of post-workout hunger and guilt. Has he been so occupied with Sana that he’s completely missed that something’s going on with Elias? 

 

“I’ll go talk to him.” Yousef ignores the fact that he’s only completed half his workout and leaves for the locker room, but Elias isn’t there. He must have skipped the shower. Fuck. Despite knowing that he probably won’t get an answer he sends Elias a short. 

 

_ You ok man?  _

 

A few minutes later he comes to the conclusion that leaving him on read seems to be a trend among the Bakkoush siblings at the moment. 

 

*

 

The kollektiv is, currently, a very sad place to be. Even Eskild is wearing sweatpants. It’s Saturday, almost noon, and none of them have really moved from the kitchen yet. Yousef has never seen anyone eat cornflakes as slowly as Linn. That is, if the contents of her bowl can even be described as cornflakes anymore. It’s more like some kind of yellow mush. Yousef doesn't even want to think about what it resembles. And still, she’s the most animated of the three, snorting while reading something on her phone. 

 

Eskild sighs loudly into his tea. His phone is lying on the table in front of him, and Yousef can see the upside down Instagram photos of a smiling couple, surrounded by friends and family. One darker man, one blond. #litoandemil. Eskild had told him the story after Yousef had woken up to him eating ice cream in the middle of the night earlier in the week. 

 

“I really liked him,” Eskild had told him, and he’d sounded so small, so different from the regular, vibrant Eskild. “...and I really thought that the problem was just… our different cultures, you know? But it turns out the problem is me.” Yousef hadn’t known what to say to that, so he’d just stroked his back. He considered for a moment that maybe this was crossing a line, that he wasn't really friends with Eskild, that maybe this could be misinterpreted - before remembering that he’d stroked Mikael’s back just like this after Even’s manic episode when they were still at Bakka, Elias’ when Isabelle dumped him. And Eskild needed someone right then, and by chance, that someone had happened to be Yousef. 

 

“And it’s not just him,” Eskild had continued. “It’s like every week someone gets engaged, or married, or buys an apartment, or something. Everyone’s growing up, and I’m just stuck. Here. Hung up on a guy who dumped me almost three years ago.  _ Who just married someone else. _ ” He scraped at the bottom of the ice cream carton, sucking the last, icey bits off his spoon. “It’s like I can get everyone into a great relationship except myself. Noora. Isak. Linn. Except I guess Linn’s wasn't so great, considering she just got dumped.” 

 

Apparently, three days later and in the light of day, the heartbreak hasn’t disappeared. If anything, it seems worse. Yousef can commiserate. He hasn't heard anything from, or about, Sana all week, and Elias is still moody. Yesterday had been the most uneventful Friday night in months - just movie night at Mutta’s. It had been eerily silent. Elias’ bad temper had put a damper on all the usual commentary, both on the production (Mikael) and the content (Adam). Yousef sighs into his own mug of tea. 

 

Linn looks annoyed with them both. 

 

“This is depressing,” she declares, and Yousef can't help but think of black pots and kettles. “The sun is shining, we need to go outside.” 

 

Eskild moans loudly at that, and Yousef is very close to doing the same. He does not want to go outside. His exam is approaching way too rapidly, so he’s actually had to study for real this weekend, despite everything. And he has snacks, and food, and a very solid plan to mope today. 

 

But apparently, underneath her blankets and sweats and general lethargy, Linn is as ruthless as a general commanding her troops into battle, because only a little while later, Yousef and Eskild find themselves dressed in coats and scarves and standing on the sidewalk, ready to go grab a coffee and do the week’s grocery shopping. 

 

“Liiiinn.  _ Whyyyy. _ ” Eskild whines, squinting into the sun behind enormous sunglasses that make him look like an aging Hollywood diva.

 

“We need toilet paper,” Linn replies. “Seriously, since Noora moved out no one buys toilet paper anymore.” She looks pointedly at Yousef, which he thinks is a  _ little  _ bit unfair, because no one’s told him that by taking over Noora’s room when she moved in with William, he’d also be taking over toilet paper buying duties. He’s not a mind reader (apparently, although right now, mind reading would be a very practical skill. Specifically, reading the minds of Bakkoush siblings). 

 

“But then let’s just go get toilet paper!”

 

“No, you need to go outside, you haven’t been outside all week.” Linn shakes her head. “I can't believe this, I’m turning into Noora.” She links arms with Eskild. “Come on. We take care of each of each other, remember? We can go to that café with the hot barista if you want?” 

 

Eskild brightens a bit at that, even if he’s still only at about half of his normal energy. They start walking towards the café, and Yousef has to admit that Linn might have had a point. The December sun doesn't provide any warmth, but considering that November had the least hours of sunlight since the meteorological institute started measuring, even a little light really brightens the mood. As he pulls the door to the café open Yousef thinks that the dun reminds him of Sana’s smile, and Sana’s laugh… no. That’s not the sun. That  _ is  _ Sana’s laugh. That is Sana, walking through the doorway as Yousef holds the door open, smiling and laughing at something a guy in hipster glasses and thoroughly styled hair is saying. 

 

That is Sana, stopping so abruptly in the middle of the door that the guy almost walks into her, braking by touching her arm instead.

 

That is Sana, staring at Yousef with eyes widened and face frozen, probably mirroring Yousef’s own expression, for just a second too long. 

 

That is Sana, blinking rapidly, smiling with her lips, telling him  _ hi  _ in a voice that seems to come from the very top of her throat, squeaky and thin. 

 

“Hi,” Yousef parrots, sounding the same. 

 

Hipster glasses looks from Sana, to Yousef, to Sana again, before extending his hand. 

 

“Hey man, I’m Jonas.” Yousef forces himself to look him in the eye, shake his hand. 

 

“Yousef.”

 

“Yousef is… Yousef is, ehm, my brother’s friend,” Sana explains, looking in the general direction of the ground and waving slightly in Yousef’s direction. Yousef and Jonas exchange nice to meet yous and then Sana and Jonas move on, Jonas’ hand still on Sana’s arm. She doesn't offer any explanation as to who Jonas is. 

 

_ Her brother’s friend.  _ Okay then. So that’s confirmation. Just her brother’s friend. Nothing more. Her brother’s friend, who’s been creeping her out by forcing her to eat lunch every day and sitting too close in the library and walking her home late at night. Got it. Brother’s friend. And now she’s probably afraid that he’ll tell Elias that she’s on a date. She probably doesn't trust Yousef at all, probably sees him as an extension of her brother, always teasing, guarding, limiting her. However well intentioned Elias is, Yousef knows Sana isn’t exactly fond of being looked after. Well, he won’t do that. He’s not telling anyone. That’s Sana's business. Not his. Clearly, obviously, not his business. 

 

*

 

Yousef carries a jumbo pack of toilet paper home. 

 

“I’m going to bed,” he tells Linn and Eskild, and as he closes the door he can hear Eskild, infinitely happier after Hot Barista winked at him, exclaim “hey, that’s your line!”. Yousef pushes his earphones further into his ear canal and queues up the saddest music he has in his Spotify library. It’s not mopey enough. There aren’t enough ballads. And Spotify’s recommendations suck. Everything sucks. 

 

Around four in the afternoon Yousef comes to the conclusion that moping also sucks. It’s fucking boring. Maybe, he thinks, what he really needs is a distraction. It’s times like these that he wishes that he drank. Then he’d get absolutely wasted right now and go out and find himself a rebound hook-up. It wouldn’t even be that difficult, probably. He’s not blind, he knows girls flirt with him when he goes out with the guys, has had probably more than his fair share of girls trying to grind up on him, girls that he’s had to gently but firmly reject. Adam likes to complain that the girls are wasted on Yousef, since he doesn't hook up  _ anyway,  _ and couldn’t the girls just see that and realize that Adam was just as hot, just as good of a dancer, and most importantly, actually a  _ willing participant _ ? Yousef, in turn, likes to tease Adam for wanting his leftovers. 

 

But the fact remains that Yousef doesn't want to hook up with anyone, doesn't want to touch anyone who isn't Sana (and then only precisely as much as she’ll let him touch her - if that had been Yousef’s hand on Sana's arm today he could have died happy). For all that he teases Adam about being desperate and settling for crumbs, Yousef knows that he is just as bad, if not worse, when it comes to Sana. 

 

He checks her Instagram, again, just in case she’s posted something from her date. Then he looks through her friends’ accounts. Nothing. It’s when he’s looking through Vilde’s followers, scrutinizing every profile picture, trying to find the elusive Jonas, that he realizes that what he’s doing is in no way healthy. It’s like he’s possessed. What would even be the point of tracking down Jonas? What would that accomplish? Nothing but more anguish. 

 

Finally he breaks down and texts Even. 

 

_ I need help.  _

_ I think I’m dying.  _

_ From heartache.  _

 

Even answers immediately, thank God. 

 

_ Are you serious right now? Do I need to call an ambulance or something?  _

 

If there’s one of his friends that Yousef knows will understand the depths of his despair, it’s Even. 

 

_ I ran into Sana today.  _

_ She was on a date.  _

 

Even, fortunately, comes through. 

 

_ Nooo! That sucks, I’m so sorry.  _

_ Isak’s sorry too, he really thought Sana liked you.  _

_ What do you need?  _

_ To be distracted,  _ Yousef replies. 

_ Don’t worry man, I’ve got you.  _

 

Three minutes later, Even messages the group chat to make plans to go out. 

 

*

 

So, this is the second Saturday in a row where Yousef finds himself on a dancefloor, trying to mend a broken heart - his own, this time. He knows it’s stupid. He knows he shouldn’t care so much. It’s not like Sana was ever  _ his.  _ She hasn't dumped him. He has no claim on her, none whatsoever. She’s free to make her own decisions, free to date whoever she wants. Of course she is. Yousef knows this. Rationally, he knows this. 

 

It’s just that it’s  _ so fucking difficult  _ to be rational when it comes to Sana. Whenever he tries he remembers things like how she teased him for bringing basically a three course meal for lunch one day (they were, in his defense, leftovers that his mom had made him take when he’d been over for dinner) - and how her eyes had shone when he offered her baklava later to get through her afternoon slump. He remembers that she offered to read his first essay when he complained that he was out of practice from taking two gap years. He remembers her surprise and her smile when he congratulated her on winning the previous night’s basketball game. Every time he tries to think of something else his brain fucks him over and reminds him of Sana again, in a new, creative way. A song that he’s listened to while “studying”. A blonde girl helping her drunk friend, reminding him of Noora and Eva, which in turn reminds him of Sana. Anyone wearing dark lipstick.

 

Fuck his brain. 

 

It’s not that going out tonight was a  _ bad  _ idea. Yousef likes going out with his friends. Normally, this would cheer him up. Watching Adam crash and burn with some girl would cheer him up. Mutta and Even’s terrible dance moves would make him laugh. He’d feel at home, and happy. But now, there’s just something off about the whole thing. Elias is still in a bad mood, drinking way too much, way too fast. Even is texting Isak (because apparently, being away from him two Saturdays in a row is something akin to torture, and had the boys been a state this would have been unlawful according to the European Convention of Human Rights. Yousef wishes, firstly, that Even wasn’t such a good listener, and secondly, that Noora had never started studying law. Also, as they all try to point out to Even -  _ this was his idea in the first place _ ). The rest of them are doing their best to keep the mood light, but none of them can ignore the tension. 

 

It’s only barely past midnight when Elias misses his chair trying to sit down, and they all come to the conclusion that it’s probably time for him to call it a night. There’s a brief debate about which one of them will help Yousef get Elias back to kollektivet, and in the end the task falls to Even - both because there’s an eternal debt to be paid efter Even threw up on Elias after a party in their first year at Bakka, and because he’s the most eager to get home (Adam has an app that makes whipping noises just for these moments). 

 

Yousef and Even walk in silence towards the tram, Elias more or less hanging between them. Yousef thinks back, tries to remember the last time he was  _ this  _ drunk - hasn't it been a while? Even must be thinking the same thing, because as they’re nearing the tram station he asks, softly, if Yousef knows if something’s going on with Elias? And that’s another thing Yousef can't remember - the last time he and Elias really  _ talked.  _ In fact, he’s been unusually quiet for weeks now - not just since the gym thing. They haven’t filmed anything for at least a month and a half - Yousef had kind of assumed that it was just because they were all in school now, but what if it’s something more? 

 

“I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow,” he promises, half to Even, half to himself. Even only nods. 

 

It’s when they’re lowering Elias into an empty seat on the tram that Yousef hears two familiar voices behind him.

 

“So no second date with Hot Guy 2?” 

 

“He does have a name, you know.”

 

Even reacts faster than Yousef, who’s brain, reliably, short circuits. 

 

“Chris! Sana! Hi! What are you doing here?!” 

 

“Even!” Chris seems to be in an even better mood than usual, smiling with her entire face as she hugs Even. Sana, on the other hand, is looking past Yousef, at her brother, who by now is half asleep. 

 

“Again?” she asks drily. After Even and Isak got together and they all started hanging out more she’s sorted out a wasted Elias almost as often as Yousef. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, not  really sure how to respond to that.

 

“We’re taking him back to kollektivet,” he offers, slowly realizing how weird this situation is. The first time he sees Sana after being ghosted by her, and the topic of conversation is her drunk brother? But on second thought, maybe it’s not that weird after all. Elias has always been Yousef’s strongest link to Sana (and his biggest obstacle, a tiny, treacherous voice reminds him - seriously brain?! Not the right moment, not when Elias is incapable of even getting home by himself). If it hadn’t been for Elias, Yousef and Sana would probably never even have met. And for all the anguish that it’s brought him, Yousef is convinced that he’d choose unrequited love for Sana a hundred times before he’d choose to not know her. 

 

“I’ll come with you,” Sana says, decidedly, and it takes Yousef a moment to grasp that she means to kollektivet. 

 

“Oh, no, that's okay,” he tries to protest. “You should go home and sleep, Even and I can get Elias to kollektivet, it’s fine.” Sana just shoots him a look of steel, and Even shrugs helplessly in response.  Sana has determined that she’s coming with Yousef, and they’d just be wasting their time trying to change her mind. Not that Yousef expects that he’d get much support from Even anyway - he’s desperate to get home to Isak anyway. 

 

When they get to kollektivet it’s dark and silent. Eskild is most likely still out, and Linn is probably sleeping. Elias crashes down on one of the couches, and while Sana puts him in the recovery position Yousef goes to find a bucket and a blanket. Afterwards, they end up just standing over Elias for a bit, watching him. In another life, Yousef thinks, he’d take Sana’s hand now, or stroke her back. Be hers. But if he can't have that, then sharing this, sharing concerns for her brother, is at least something. 

 

“I should probably go,” Sana says, quietly, barely above a whisper. “I texted mom from Elias’ phone and told her he’s sleeping here.” She checks her own phone, and Yousef can see that it’s nearing half past two. Sana tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. She pulls up the page for Oslo public transport, and starts typing. And erasing. And typing again. And frowning. 

 

“I guess I’ll just walk to Chris’, that’ll almost be quicker than the bus,” she mutters, almost to herself. 

 

“You’re not going home?”

 

“No… I told mom I’d stay at Chris’ house, and I already texted her from the tram. If I go home now she’ll just ask lots of questions.” 

 

Yousef’s brain is suddenly wide awake, like it’s just now processing the night's events, like it’s a web browser and all the links he’s clicked on since he ran into Sana on the tram are opening at once, in 27 different windows. 

 

“You could stay here, if you want,” he hears himself offering. It can only be that he is so tired that his conscious brain has recapitulated to his unconscious, because he has no clue from where he got the courage to say that. Neither does Sana, apparently, judging from the surprise on her face. She looks up at Yousef for what feels like the first time all night, and then around the living room. 

 

“You can take my room,” he hurries to add, “I’ll sleep out here on the other couch. Linn and Eskild won’t mind.” He’s pretty sure that last bit’s true. 

 

Sana nods slowly. 

 

“Okay. Yeah, I guess I can do that. Ehm, to make sure Elias is okay.” 

 

“Definitely, to make sure Elias is okay,” Yousef parrots, because he’s just now realizing what’s happening: Sana is staying over. In his room. In his bed. Without him there, obviously, but tomorrow night  he’ll get to sleep in a bed where Sana has also slept. 

 

“Ehm, I’ll just use the bathroom, then?” Sana gestures vaguely towards it, and Yousef realises that he should probably change his sheets really quickly. Good thing he has a clean spare set. 

 

When Sana returns from the bathroom her nose is a bit red, and Yousef can see that she has a zit forming to the left on her chin. It’s adorable. She’s adorable. As beautiful as Sana is with make up, seeing her like this only solidifies for Yousef that this is what he wants for the rest of his life: to see Sana like this, getting ready for bed. Preferably without him having to leave. He doesn’t know how he’s ever supposed to get over this. 

 

Sana stands in the middle of the room as Yousef grabs a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. As he closes the door after himself he looks up, and she is smiling at him again. The last thing he hears is her whisper: 

 

“Good night, Yousef.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say THANK YOU to everyone who's read, and given kudos, and commented on the first chapter - publishing anything on the internet always makes me really nervous, so the all the kudos and lovely response has made me really happy.
> 
> Second of all, Jonas/Hot guy 2 is Shawn Jonas Munir Choudri, one of the guys that Noora and Sana flirt with while drinking tea. He's credited as Hot guy 1 (Kjekk gutt 1) in the episode, but for some reason Hot guy 2 is funnier to me. 
> 
> And last of all, I'm sorry about the lawyer joke, this is a prime examply of not killing your darlings. Oops. I hope you all forgive me.


	3. The Kitchen

When Yousef wakes up, it’s to a grey dawn and a crick in his neck. He hasn’t slept very long, he realises when he checks his phone. 7:34. The sun’s not even up yet. But it’s not that surprising, really, because this couch is the most uncomfortable place he’s ever had the displeasure of sleeping. _Why_ is he even here, when he has a perfectly comfortable bed in his room, just a few steps away? Yousef turns on his side, trying to find a slightly more comfortable position, and as he does, he spots Elias, still fast asleep on the other couch, breathing deeply, calmly.

Oh right. That’s why.

Suddenly, Yousef is intensely, undeniably awake. He’s not in his own bed, because _Sana_ is there. Sana is in his room. Sana is in _his_ room. This is not something that Yousef can process this early in the morning, on so little sleep. He sighs and closes his eyes again, but he knows as he does so that it’s useless - he’s not getting any more sleep now. In his mind, Sana’s smile as he said goodnight and shut the bedroom door plays on a loop. She smiled at him, and she’s in his bed.

He hears the click of a cabinet door being shut in the kitchen, the thud of heavy porcelain against the counter and the purl of water being poured into a mug. He can smell a very, very faint whiff of tea.

Someone else is awake at half past seven on a Saturday morning, then. Yousef wonders who it could be. Linn maybe? She has a really weird sleep schedule sometimes, getting up early, taking long naps in the afternoon, going to bed late. Probably not Eskild - if Eskild is even home.

Yousef turns on his back again, considering his options. He’s not going to fall asleep again. His stomach is hurting a bit, partly from hunger and partly because the sound of the tea being poured made him have to pee. He might as well get up. Maybe Linn will appreciate the company.

It’s not Linn.

Sana is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking tea from the biggest mug they own (left behind by some unknown roommate who predated even Eskild), smiling at something on her phone. Yousef can't help but pause in the doorway for a moment, savoring the opportunity to watch her again. Of all the Sanas in his life - library Sana, dancing Sana, late night walk Sana, rolling her eyes at Elias Sana, laughing with her friends Sana - this is, from now on, Yousef’s absolute favorite: Sana in his kitchen. He allows himself a moment to pretend that this isn’t _his_ kitchen but _theirs_ , that they are a _they,_ that this is what he wakes up to every morning. Then he forces himself to dismiss the thought. Because Sana isn’t his. And if he’s honest with himself - she probably never will be. If he ever had a chance with her he’s pretty sure that meeting her with Jonas means that he missed it. Missed his window of opportunity.  He isn’t the reason that she’s here, in his kitchen. He isn't the reason that she slept over. That’s all Elias. Yousef knows this. He does. It breaks his heart, it makes his chest hurt and his throat smart, but he does. And when Sana and Elias have gone he’ll hide away in his room and spend the rest of the weekend feeling sorry for himself. But. A little Sana, being friends with Sana, or library buddies, or anything really - a little Sana is a hundred times better than no Sana at all. A million times better. If that's what he gets, Yousef will take it, and he will be fucking grateful.

“Hi,” he says, softly, partly out of concern for Linn and Elias, who are still sleeping, because it _is_ still before eight on a Saturday after all, and partly because if he has a moment alone with Sana he wants that moment to be as long as possible.

Sana only startles for a millisecond before her face softens into a smile. “Hi,” she answers, mirroring Yousef’s tone. “I stole some of your tea, I’m sorry.” She doesn't look sorry - Yousef thinks she looks at home, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to be here, drinking his tea. He wishes that it were.

There’s still hot water in the kettle, so Yousef pours himself a cup and sits down opposite of Sana. They sit in silence. Yousef dunks his teabag a few times and Sana swirls the spoon in her mug. A car passes by outside, but other than that, it’s quiet. Through the kitchen window, Yousef can see that the sky is enveloped in a thick blanket of grey clouds, and although the sun is barely up yet, this is probably as light as it’ll get today. He takes a sip of his tea.

“So what did you do yesterday?” he asks Sana, because that's something you ask of a friend. She shrugs a little and turns her phone over a few times on the table.

“Just dinner with the girls,” she answers after a bit. “And then we went to see that new French movie? Noora’s choice,” she adds, and Yousef thinks he must have looked surprised, and he is, because that movie looks seriously pretentious and he wouldn’t have thought that it was Sana’s taste.

“How was it?” he asks, despite having no intention of watching it - what’s the point of spending money at the cinema if you’re not going to watch something epic, with great special effects, something where size actually matters? (This is, of course, something he’d never admit to Mikael or Even - the rant that would follow is not something he’s interested in experiencing)

“It was okay. It was nice to have a distraction from everything.”

There’s a tiredness in Sana’s voice that makes Yousef look up. She’s still spinning her spoon, following it with her gaze. He wishes they were better friends. Or at the very least that he could pinpoint what they are, that he could label their relationship somehow - friends, acquaintances, casual library buddies - because this limbo, where he has to question everything, everything he says, everything he writes - it’s fucking exhausting. He wants to ask her why she needs to be distracted, why she’s tired. He just doesn't know if she wants him to. If she’d feel like he’s prying. So he just nods. She must notice it, in the corner of her eye, because she looks up as well. She looks into his eyes, and Yousef doesn't think he could ever get used to being looked at like this, with this amount of focus, an intensity that he has never seen in any gaze other than Sana’s. He doesn't know what to do with his face. After a second something in Sana's gaze shifts, and Yousef could never describe what that something is, but he thinks it is a decision.

“I’m thinking of dropping out of medical school,” she says, averting her eyes so she’s looking somewhere behind him now. Yousef nods again. On the inside, he is screaming. For as long as he’s known Sana, since they were kids, her plan has always been to become a surgeon. It’s been one of the things that defined her to him: Sana is beautiful, and funny, and incredibly smart - she’s going to be a surgeon. Not _wants_ to be but _will_ be. And now she won’t? He can't think of what to answer - because, well, is she happy about it? Sad? Has something happened? He doesn't know - so he just takes a sip of his tea.

It turns out that he doesn't have to say anything, because once the dam is open Sana doesn't stop talking, and all Yousef has to do is listen.

“I didn't realise that it would be so theoretical? Or, I guess I did, but… it’s just so detached. It’s like we forget that the point of being a doctor is to help people.” She takes a sip of her tea, and catches his eyes again. Her stare isn’t as intense now, but it still makes Yousef nervous enough that he has to run his hand through his hair to break its spell.

“When you told me about… about Ida.” She smiles a little, and Yousef smiles back, because the fact that she remembered, that she even remembered Ida’s name - that feels significant, somehow. “I need something like that, I think. Not exactly like that, of course, but I need to make sure that I actually want this. That I actually want to work with _people_. That I’m not just doing this to prove a point, because the racist guidance counselor in ninth grade said I couldn't.”

“That makes sense.” She smiles at that. It does make sense, of course it does. For all Sana confuses him when it comes to _them_ , Yousef knows that she’d never make a decision like this lightly. Not because she’s always the most rational person (he remembers the drama when she posted the texts between her brother and Jamilla) but because she’s the most stubborn person he knows. Even worse than Elias. “Are you dropping out completely?”

She shakes her head.

“I think I can take a gap year and keep my spot. And Jamilla’s mom works at a nursing home, so I’m hoping that maybe I can get a job there.” She pauses a little, and stirs her tea again. “I haven’t told anyone else about this. I talked to Isak a little, about the program, and Jonas, since he’s a year ahead of us, but I haven’t told my parents. Or Elias.” She shoots him a look when she mentions Elias.

“I won’t tell him,” Yousef hurries to assure her, and she smiles a little again. At the same time he can feel a knot forming in his chest, beneath his heart. _Jonas._

“So… Jonas and you…” He begins, without really knowing what he’s asking, or even where he gets the courage to ask. He can feel his heart beating harder in his chest. _Friends. Friends. Friends._ This is something that you’d ask a friend. That’s what they are.

“Oh! No… Jonas and I… we’re… we’re not…” Sana looks approximately as uncomfortable as Yousef feels.

“Good morning?” They both jump at the sound. Sana’s spoon clanks against her mug. Elias stands in the doorway, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh! Hey!” Yousef doesn't know why he’s suddenly incredibly embarrassed. It’s not like Elias caught them doing anything out of the ordinary, and still - it feels like they’ve been interrupted. Like a spell has been broken.

Sana finds herself quicker.

" _Good_ _morning_ ,"she answers, pointedly, smirking at him. “Is it really?”

Elias rolls his eyes at her.

“I’m fine,” he insists, but he does look a bit pale. “Why are you here, anyway?”

It’s Sana's turn to raise her eyebrows at her brother. Yousef can't tell how much of her indignation is genuine.

“Excuse me? I helped carry you here! If it wasn't for me you’d probably still be riding the tram!”

Elias has the good sense to look at least a little bit embarrassed at that, but it’s still mixed with suspicion. Yousef doesn't remind Sana that he did have Even to help him - this doesn't feel like the right time, and honestly, he knows better than to come between Elias and Sana.

“So where did you sleep?” Elias asks, and when Sana shrugs, like it’s no big deal and she sleeps over all the time, Yousef is pretty sure she’s provoking him on purpose.

“I slept in Yousef’s room.”

Elias turns to Yousef, for the first time since he entered the kitchen, and Yousef comes to the conclusion that Sana’s intense gaze must be hereditary, because Elias’ stare is, if possible, even worse. And, worst of all, Yousef finds that, like with Sana, he can’t interpret it. He’s never seen Elias this way before. He’s seen Elias angry, and there’s anger in this stare, but it’s more than that. Sadness? Disappointment? Incredulousness? He can't place it, and he doesn't like it.

“I slept on the couch!” he hastens to add, and Elias looks at him for a moment longer before turning back to Sana.

“We should go,” he tells her, and she raises her eyebrows at him again.

“You can do whatever you want,” she responds, “but I’m drinking tea, and then I’m meeting Isak to study.” She takes a sip of her tea, as if to prove a point. Yousef watches as the Bakkoush siblings stare each other down, a silent standoff. In his head he hears the theme to some western movie that he can’t place. He’ll have to ask Mikael about it later.

Elias breaks first.

“Fine,” he says, sitting down between Sana and Yousef, eyes darting from one of them to the other. Sana picks up her phone again and sips her tea. Yousef mimics her. The kitchen is silent again, but now, Yousef can't rest in it. His mind is racing, trying to think of something to say, but everything he wants to say to Sana is something he can’t say in front of Elias, and everything he wants to say to Elias is something he doesn't want to say in front of Sana. At last, he thinks to ask if they want breakfast, so that they can at least fill the silence with the sounds of crackling cereal and the chewing of sandwiches.

It’s nearing half past nine when Sana pockets her phone and puts her mug in the sink.

“So this was fun,” she says, sarcastically. “Elias, I’ll see you at home.” And with that, she’s gone.

Elias’ attention is on his phone. With his other hand he’s shuffling cornflakes into his mouth. Yousef is pretty sure that he’s being purposely ignored. Again. And, seriously, what the fuck, Elias? You can't just ignore your best friend and not even tell him why, and then eat the last of his cornflakes? Especially when said friend got you home in one piece and let you sleep in his couch, _again._ Not cool. Elias is very lucky that Yousef doesn't have a temper, because this is getting old. As it is, Yousef manages to control his annoyance.

“Hey,” he asks instead, “what’s up with you?”

Elias looks up from his phone and cocks an eyebrow, like he can't believe Yousef doesn't know.

“Seriously?” he asks back. Elias does not have Yousef’s amount of control over his annoyance.

“Yes seriously, you’ve been all mopey for weeks,” Yousef answers, because what’s the point of a best friend if they don’t call you out on your shit?

“ _I’ve_ been mopey? This is _my_ problem? Okay sure, keep telling yourself that.” Elias very pointedly turns back to his phone, clearly signalling that there’s obviously no point in even talking with Yousef about this. Yousef does not agree.

“What, are you saying this is _my_ fault?” he counters. “How is it _my_ fault that you’re moody? Come on man, I’m supposed to be your best friend and you won’t even talk to me lately!”

“Well, if you’re my _best friend_ maybe you could stop flirting with Sana when you have a _fucking girlfriend_!”

Wait… what?

“What?”

“Yeah, I tend not to be the biggest fan of guys who make my little sister cry.”

Yousef knows that there’s more to unpack in this argument, that there’s probably more to Elias bad mood lately than this, but at the moment, all he can focus on is that _Sana cried._ He made Sana _cry?_ The thought is almost enough to bring him to the verge of tears himself, and he can’t seem to bring himself to react further than just staring at Elias in shock.

“Do you have to be so loud?” Linn calls from her room, the sound muffled by her door, and, most probably, her fluffy duvet over her head. 

Elias shrugs, avoiding Yousef’s eyes.

“Whatever.” Unlike Sana, he doesn't bring his bowl to the sink, and when he exits the apartment he slams the door behind him.

Yousef is left in a messy kitchen, unable to shake the image of Sana crying from his mind.

 

*

 

Yousef spends the rest of the morning in a daze. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? He clears the table and washes the dishes while he tries to sort through his thoughts, but they’re an incoherent jumble of _Jonas and I_ and _make my little sister cry_ and _fucking girlfriend_ , and he has a terrible feeling of having messed up somehow but not really knowing how or what he should do about it.

Eskild stumbles in around eleven and barely greets Yousef before he collapses in his bed. Yousef makes coffee, hoping that it will help him clear his mind, but it’s useless. Even if he could organize the events of the last few weeks, make a timeline, maybe, sort them into categories - he can’t seem to make sense of them. It’s as if as soon as he thinks he understands what's happening some unknown force comes in and turns everything upside down, or provides some new piece of information that turns everything he thinks he knows on its head. First Sana seems to flirt with him when they’re cooking dinner, and they have a _moment_ on the way home from the club, so he lets himself believe that she might possibly be interested. Then she ignores him and goes on a date with someone else, so he backs off. And now Elias says that she’s cried over him, and what does that even mean?!

By the time Linn enters the kitchen in her fluffy robe it’s past noon and Yousef’s coffee has gone cold. She eyes him suspiciously while eating her cornflakes in silence and he can't say he blames her - he probably looks incredibly pathetic.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks, finally, her tone somewhere in the middle of annoyed, exasperated, indifferent and concerned.

Yousef can't say that he and Linn are close. If they were, he wouldn’t have missed the fact that she had a boyfriend for several months (not that she seems overly concerned by that relationship coming to an end, but still). In this moment, however, he considers that that may be an advantage: an impartial party, unlike literally all his other friends, who are way too close to both him and Sana. So he tells her everything. From the first time they had lunch all the way up to the fight with Elias. And then he waits, hoping that beneath all the blankets, Linn will be hiding some incredible wisdom that will help him sort out this situation.

When he’s done, Linn keeps eating her breakfast. For a moment, Yousef thinks that she won't react at all. Then she nods slowly, pensively.

“When I was fourteen I put dog poo in the mailbox of the girl who got together with the guy I liked.” She eats some more cornflakes. “It didn't work. They were together for three years.”

Well. Okay then. Yousef isn’t entirely sure what to do with this information. He deflects by making more coffee. After Linn has downed a mug, strong and pitch black, she speaks again.

“I don’t think I ever actually told him I liked him.” She then refills her mug and moves to the living room. It only takes a moment before Yousef hears the the tv turn on.

 

*

 

Maybe he can blame the fact that he didn't sleep that well on the couch. Maybe it’s his general stupidity when it comes to the subject of Sana. Whatever the reason, it takes Yousef another hour before he actually realises that there was advice buried in Linn’s dog poop story. It’s not that the advice in itself is revolutionary. If he could look at the situation rationally, if it was one of his friends who had a crush, he’d give the same advice. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s known for weeks, months even, that if anything is to happen between him and Sana, for this situation to develop _in any way_ , good or bad, one of them has to make a move. Put the cards on the table. It’s just fucking scary! What if she doesn't like him back? And at the same time… the situation can hardly get worse. His best friend is pissed at him. He and Sana are stuck in some kind of weird limbo. He’s technically been lying to his friends for weeks. So yeah. It’s probably about time that he does _something._ It’s just a question of what that something should be.

In the end, he texts Elias. Because if everything goes to shit with Sana, if she doesn't feel the same way, or even if she by some miracle does feel the same way but it doesn't work out - Yousef still needs his best friend. He’s known Elias for too long for this to be the thing that fucks up their friendship.

_I don’t have a girlfriend,_ he writes. _There’s no girl in my class._

_So why did Even think there was?_ is Elias immediate reply.

_Because I didn't want you to know I like Sana,_ Yousef starts to type, before deleting it again. _Because I wasn't sure what you’d think about me liking Sana._ He deletes that as well. _Because I lied to him too._ He can picture Elias watching the writing bubble appear and disappear and appear again, probably getting more frustrated by the second. This, Yousef realises, is a conversation that you can't have over Messenger.

Elias answers on the first signal, and it’s obvious that he’s annoyed. Yousef kind of wishes that he had planned this better.

“So…” he starts. “Ehm. Well. There’s something I have to tell you?” He doesn't intend it to, but it comes out like a question. Elias only snorts in response. “Ehm. I don't have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah. You told me that already.”

“Yeah, I… I kind of told Even that I had a crush on a girl in my class? But I don't.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Yousef takes a deep breath. Here goes. This is so contrary to his entire personality that he has to force the words out, one by one. “I. Didn't. Want. Everyone. To. Know. That. I. Like. Sana.”

Elias is silent for so long that Yousef almost asks him if he’s still there, if there’s a problem with the phone line, maybe Elias is on the subway or something, but just as he’s about to do so, Elias speaks again.

“What.”

Seriously, is he going to have to say it again?

“I… like Sana?” It’s marginally easier the second time around. “But I don't think she likes me! And that’s fine! I’ll get over it!” he rushes to add, because he wants Elias to know that this isn't actually about Sana, well it is, but he’s not coming on to her or anything, he’s not trying to date her, this isn’t that, he respects her way too much for that, he just wants to explain. He hopes that Elias knows him well enough to hear all of that in his voice.

Once again, it takes Elias a little while to answer. When he does, Yousef can practically hear him shaking his head.

“You are both idiots,” he says. “You need to talk to Sana. You should be telling her this, not me.”

With that, he hangs up, once again leaving Yousef stunned.

The peace only lasts a few minutes - then, the group chat notifications start rolling in.

_So Yousef apparently thinks he can try to keep his crush on Sana from us,_ Elias writes, and the rest of the guys go crazy. Mutta sends a long string of emojis - heart eyes, all the different heart variations and colors, a unicorn, confetti, fireworks and, for some reason, a pumpkin.

_This… is not even remotely a surprise?_ Mikael writes, and Yousef can almost hear his dry tone. @ _Adam Malik, you owe me 50 kroner._

_You guys knew????!!!!!_ Even responds. _I thought I was the only one who knew! I feel betrayed!_

_YOU feel betrayed? This is my little sister and he didn't even tell me!_ is Elias answer, at the same time as Mikael writes _How could you not know? Yousef has literal heart eyes around Sana, and he’s always stalking her on instagram._

In the end, it’s Adam who asks the important question:

_So what are you going to do about it?_

And, yeah. If only he knew _that_.

 

_*_

 

Yousef spends the rest of the afternoon trying to compose a text to Sana. The suggestions in the group chat had ranged from _just tell her_ (Mikael) to a combination of emojis that Yousef is pretty sure means _take her on a hot air balloon and propose to her_ (Mutta, and, no. Obviously not). The most practical advice had, incredibly enough, come from Adam: text her and ask her to meet you. And, yes, that sounds simple enough in theory, but in practice… Yousef is once again reminded of his non-existent texting abilities when it comes to Sana.

He knows he’s overanalyzing. He _knows,_ okay? He knows that he could probably just write something like _Hey, would you like to go out sometime?_ and it’d be _fine,_ Sana wouldn’t be horribly offended, but he’s built this moment up in his head during the last few months and he doesn't want to screw it up now. And then there's the fact that he isn’t sure that she’ll say yes. The guys had been pretty confident - but Yousef thinks that they probably don't know about Jonas. And he isn’t about to tell them either - if there is something to tell it’s up to Sana to decide when that will happen. He tried to tell the boys how back and forth Sana’s been, but he’d mostly been met with gifs of eye rolls, so he doesn't think he did a very good job of conveying his uncertainty.

By the time he realises that he should probably make some kind of dinner he’s written and scrapped more texts than he can count, a million subtle variations on _hey, how are you, would you like to go out with me?_ Some have been more straightforward - _I like you and I felt I had to tell you_ \- and some have been even more effusive - _It’d be fun to hang out more with you._ Nothing works. It’s hopeless. Yousef’s hopeless. And hungry.

He puts his phone face down on the counter and starts digging through his freezer compartment. He’s pretty sure he has some fish cakes in here, somewhere. Yes, there they are, at the very back of the freezer, of course. On the counter, his phone buzzes. The group chat, presumably, gearing up to tease him some more about not being able to create a simple text. He gets some butter from the fridge and plops it in a pan, sliding it around a bit as it starts to fizzle in the heat from the stove. As the butter is melting he flips his phone over and presses the power button, checking his notifications out of the corner of his eye.

 

New message from Sana Bakkoush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I may have promised that this chapter would be less angsty, and have things like Communication and Answers, and stuff. Turns out I lied. But! There will be a fourth chapter, and I promise that it will be basically all fluff (you probably shouldn't trust me on that...).
> 
> A huge, huge thank you to everyone who's read and commented and left kudos - you're wonderful, and I love you, and I may have screenshotted basically every comment and sent them to my best friend because they make me so excited <3


	4. Spikersuppa Skating Rink

In the end, Yousef will decide it’s a good thing that neither he nor Sana thought to check the hours of the Spikersuppa skating rink. They’ve just finished lacing up their skates when a horn sounds, signaling that everyone has to get of the ice so that it can be prepped, and neither of them wants to take them _off_ again, because if they do, they probably won’t get them back on again. So they’re left sitting on the bench, watching the resurfacer make its rounds on the ice.

When Sana had texted yesterday, asking if he wanted to hang out sometime, Yousef had had to literally sit on his own hands to keep from overwhelming her with texts and date suggestions. He considers the fact that he only tripled texted her a success: _Of course I want to hang out!_ and _When do you want to hang out?_ and _I’m free tomorrow._ He had immediately regretted sending the last one, because how desperate can he get, seriously, but Sana had answered within seconds, and was miraculously free as well, so Yousef has come to the conclusion that all's well that ends well. Only this hasn’t ended, and he really hopes it won’t.

It’d been Yousef’s idea that they go skating. He’d had images of fairy lights and giant Christmas trees, and if pressed he’d probably have to admit that this date is more than a little inspired by the many Christmas movies he’s seen set in New York. When he’d suggested it Sana had been quick to agree, and then she’d texted:

_I hope you’re aware that I’m a skating champion_ , punctuated by the victory sign emoji.

_Oh yeah?_ he’d answered.

_Drafted into the women’s national team,_ she’d written back. _Just waiting for it to be officially announced._

Then he’d watched as the writing bubbles appeared and disappeared and appeared again, and after a minute, a new message came through:

_So if this is a ploy to get to hold my hand I hope you won’t be too disappointed_

The only answer Yousef could think of was _Never._

 

*

 

For all the effort it’s taken them to get to this point, for all the stomach butterflies and overactive brain waves Yousef’s had whenever he’s tried to initiate contact with Sana over the past few months, and especially the last few weeks - despite all of this, there’s nothing easier than actually hanging out with Sana, talking to her, laughing with her. And Yousef wants to kick his past self in the shin for not doing something about it earlier.

It’s colder today, the sky is clear apart from a few wispy clouds high above them, and there’s a bit of wind chill. The tip of Sana’s nose and the apples of her cheeks are turning a bit red, and it’s the most adorable thing Yousef has ever seen. He watches her flex her fingers in her mittens, bouncing a bit in her seat in an attempt to warm up a little, and it reminds him of the second part of his ice skating date fantasies.

Sana laughs when he hands her a mug of hot chocolate poured from his thermos.

“You brought hot chocolate?” she asks, incredulous. “Seriously?”

Yousef is glad that the sun is setting, coloring the sky pink and orange and hopefully hiding his blush. Was it too much? Did he take this too far? He _had_ bounced the idea off Even, who’d been overwhelmingly enthusiastic, but now, in the light of day, he’s reminded that Sana is most definitely not Even, and that maybe this is just overwhelming. He _has_ to chill, seriously. For Sana, this is probably just a date among many others, just a fun Sunday afternoon, and not the start of something that will hopefully last the rest of their lives and include marriage, a gaggle of children and grandchildren and maybe a cat or two. _Chill_.

So Yousef smiles at Sana and tries to sound cool and confident and not let out all the butterflies in his stomach when he answers,

“Well aren’t you glad I did?”

And Sana laughs, _with_ him, and it’s his favorite sound in the entire world, and her dimples are glorious (he wants to reach out and stroke them with his thumb and it’s taking all his self-control not to), and she wraps her hands around the mug and warms her face over the steam that rises from the chocolate, and her “yeah” is soft and private, like a confession.

They sip on the chocolate in silence for a bit, and when Yousef notices that Sana is sneaking as many glances of him as he is of her he feels a warmth spread in his chest that is more than just his drink.

Once again, it’s Sana who speaks first, and Yousef doesn't want to presume, doesn't want to exaggerate his role in Sana’s life, not even to himself, or maybe especially not to himself, but he’s beginning to see a pattern, hopes that it means something that she’s telling him ( _him!)_ that she’s struggling, what she’s dealing with.

“I talked to my parents today,” Sana says. She looks over at him, and Yousef can feel her eyes scanning his face, like she’s waiting for him to react, respond. But all he wants is to listen to her, to here her thoughts - he wants to know everything that goes through Sana’s mind, every idea she’s ever had and ever will have, wants to discover how her head works and _why._ So he just nods, and waits.

“It was mostly for Elias’ sake,” she continues. “He had a fight with mom again, about his future, that he doesn't know what he wants to do, he needs a plan, he should be more like me and our brother, blah blah blah.” She sighs, and Yousef wants to sigh too, because he’s heard all of this from Elias as well, because it’s a fight that’s been going on for years now, the periods of silence - when Elias has a job -  armistices rather than actual peace. “So I told them I was thinking of taking a gap year, to take some of the heat off him for a bit.” She takes another sip of her hot chocolate and scoffs a little, a tiny, dry laugh. “It didn't really work, they thought it was an excellent idea, that it’d be good for my resume to have more work experience. Dad started listing all the relatives we have with connections in healthcare, all over Europe. I’m not sure Elias appreciated it.”

Yousef has to laugh a little at that, because, yeah, of course that’s what happened - he has good company in Sana's parents when it comes to thinking that Sana is perfect. Which isn’t always easy for Elias.

“Have you talked to him?” he asks, because for all that he is on a date with Sana ( _he is on a date with Sana!)_ Elias is still his best friend and her brother, and he is important to both of them. And yeah, it might not be a conventional topic of conversation for a first date, but maybe they don’t have to be - shouldn’t be, can’t be - conventional. They can, should, have to be them, and that includes their families.

Sana shakes her head a little.

“I’ve been… distracted,” she says, and winks at him. Actually winks. Yousef can feel a silly smile spreading on his face, and he has to turn it into a smirk and waggle his eyebrows in mock suggestion to keep up some semblance of dignity. _Sana_ has been distracted. Sana has been distracted by _him_ ?! By _them_?! He almost forgets that they were actually holding a conversation, and only remembers when Sana keeps going.

“I think the whole future thing is starting to get to him, now that the rest of you are studying and working and stuff. But he did seem to be in a better mood yesterday. Did you talk to him?”

And no, not really - Yousef just confessed his feelings for Sana, he doesn't know if that counts.

A thought occurs to him.

“Did Elias tell you to text me?”

“What?!” Sana looks almost genuinely shocked, completely incredulous. “Elias?! He would never!”

Fuck. Maybe Yousef really did mess up now, maybe the very suggestion that someone else was involved in making this happen is offensive, maybe he was way over line talking to the boys about this -

“It was Isak.”

Wait what?

“He practically forced me to text you. When we were studying?” Sana is looking down at her skates and Yousef can tell that she’s embarrassed, and he knows that he should probably feel bad about that, but he can’t help it - the idea that Sana feels something about _him,_ that she might feel something for him that’s similar to what he feels for her makes him feel all warm inside. The fact that Sana is flustered gives him a sudden boost of confidence - he's not the only one for whom this date _means something._ And maybe he should be upset with Isak for meddling, but right now every last cell in his body is happy, and he doesn't feel like he could ever be upset again. He smiles brightly at her.

“I'm glad you did.”

Sana's smile back is just as bright, and it’s the only thing that gives Yousef confidence enough to ask the question that’s been on his mind all week.

“What about Jonas?”

Sana looks bemused.

“What about him?”

“Are you…” Yousef hopes that that will be enough, because he’d rather not put it into words -  _ are you dating? Where does that leave us? Where do you see this going?  _

“Oh! No!” Sana shakes her head emphatically. “There’s nothing between us.” She looks down at her skates again, taps her toes together, twist her mug in her hands. “I thought you had a girlfriend.” She takes a breath. “Elias told me you had a girlfriend. After the Friday when we went dancing.”  


With one ear, Yousef hears Sana say  _ the Friday when we went dancing  _ \- like it had been just the two of them, and he can feel a swelling in his chest. With the other, he hears  _ Elias told me you had a girlfriend,  _ and it feels like a gut punch. Even.

“I didn't,” he says, but it feels too small, and at the same time, telling her everything, how much he already feels, how much of himself that is already invested in  _ them  _ feels like too much, too soon. At last he adds: “It was you.” He hopes that she understands what she means. 

  
Sana nods, and smiles, and he has thinks that maybe she does.   


The alarm sounds again - the resurfacer is done, and the ice is opened. Sana stands up, as steady on her skates as she was in her boots, and starts making her way towards the ice. When she reaches it she turns to wait for Yousef. He busies himself with his backpack for a bit, putting away the mugs and the thermos, stuffing the bag under the bench so that it'll hopefully be left alone. Now that it's time, he's starting to think that maybe he didn't really think this through. When he at last stands up, his knees are shaking, and he has none of Sana's confidence as he wobbles towards the rink.

“I’m not actually that great at skating,” he has to confess. “I can’t really brake.”

Sana only smiles at him.

“That’s okay,” she answers, holding out her mitten-clad hand to him. “I’ll catch you.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter was so short! In retrospect, maybe it could have been part of the last chapter, but I just couldn't resist that cliff hanger. 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for reading this - I've really been blown away by all your lovely comments, and messages, and kudos. You are the best motivation! 
> 
> If you want to watch me misunderstand and misuse tumblr I'm champagneleftie there as well!


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